Tales from Tellius: The Black Hearted Woman
by Ghost's-gallows
Summary: Over time, the people of Tellius came to believe that, Petrine, the Rider of Daein. Died at The Great Riven Bridge… that is not true. She… survived, and yet lives. Rescued by a wayfaring swordsman, but why? Stefan X Petrine
1. Prologue: Delivered from Death

"You!" A woman with dark green hair shouted commandingly at a passing soldier, hearing her he ran over hastily and stood at attention in front of the woman. "See to it that the traitor is taken to Ashnard, and should you be lucky enough to find the opportunity, kill her." She said.

"Consider It done, General Petrine!" The Soldier said, obviously elated to have acquired such an important task and ran off to gather some of his fellows for his prisoner escort.

She listened to the patter of his steps and grinned before moving out. After a few steps she threw her flamespear over her shoulder and made for the stables, more specifically, her horse's stall. Once she'd arrived Petrine mounted her steed rode out of the stables into the courtyard and then out the fort's main gate. The Daein general eyed the Crimean army contemptuously as she exited. _I cannot believe this rag-tag group of mercenaries has managed to survive this long… No matter, I'll just have to take to the field personally. Good thing I saved the majority my elites… they'll be much more effective under my personal directives._ Several units of horsemen and wyvern riders, spilled out of the fort after her and rode, flew to engage the Crimean army.

The Daein General guarded the entrance to the fort personally, and a young man with dark blue hair began his approach only to be cut off by a man with long light green hair. "This fight is mine, Ike. Please, step aside." The green haired man drew his sword and advanced on the daein paladin.

"Uh, good luck then, Stefan." Ike said as the swordsman passed.

"I hate Luck." Stefan mumbled.

Not long after that he stood in front of her. "I felt your aura. You're like me aren't you? You share in my fate, and like me carry tainted blood." Stefan uncovered the brand on his hand.

"So what? Have you come to join me? Join Deain? If so, forget it! We have no use for whinny Crimean weaklings like you." She said, glaring at him contemptuously.

"I wouldn't join Deain if you wanted me to and I'm not Crimean… Nor do I care about this war or its outcome." He said.

"Then you, fool, have chosen to die for nothing!" She said, leveling her spear at him.

"Put down your spear. We can just walk away. Leave this all behind us-" The paidin shouted, cutting him off. "Stop wasting your breath fool! If you want to see this lance removed from my hand… you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead, fingers!"

He drew his sword and leveled it at his side. "Fine… Have it your way… and go ahead, try your luck, but know that luck will only get you so far… and that you'll be coming with me, alive."

"I'll never allow myself to become a prisoner of war! It's time for you to die knave!" The Daein, leveled her spear and nudged her horse into a gallop, instead of waiting to intercept her Stefan broke into a sprint He dogged her spear and severed the horses front leg. Petrine acted quickly and made it off her horse before it hit the ground kicking wildly with its stump and three remaining legs. She landed hard, sliding and rolling over on the hardened ground, stirring up dust.

_Good reflexes… she really is one of my kind…_ The green haired man let his sword fall back to his side, and stood there, aloof, but at the ready.

"Dog's breath!" She growled, removing herself from the ground.

The recently dethroned paladin shot him a glare before charging at him like an enraged beast. "You Bastard! I'll have your head for that!" Petrine closed the distance between them quickly.

Stefan readied himself for her assault and seconds later the clanging steel, the crackle of fire lingered in the air about them. To her credit, she'd managed to keep him at bay with quick jabs and wide arching swings but it was obvious that the man held the advantage and she backed off, lowering her spear. "I admit it, you're good… maybe even better than me, but you're nothing compared to Ashnard! He'd tear you apart!"

"Then I'm glad he's not here." Stefan went on the offensive and after a few more strikes… Stefan found his opening. He pressed his sword to her spear and ran down its length. When he reached her, he dropped his sword, and drove his fist into her stomach with all the strength he could muster. She doubled over and his knee welcomed her to the realm of dreams. She fell to the ground and lay there sprawled out at his feet, her long dark green hair disheveled and covering her face. He picked up her flamespear and his sword, which he sheathed before letting out a sigh of relief as he ran his hand through his light green mane.

"Why didn't you kill her? Do you think she should be interrogated?" A blue haired man asked as he approached the swordsman.

"We both fight for very different things, Ike… and, this… this is where we part ways, I am going to return to the Grann Desert." The green haired man stated.

"Is she going with you?" Ike asked.

"Yes, and If you truly wish to repay me for my aid... you will let us leave." The swordsman, said.

A Paladin wearing Crimean colors rode up and said. "No, I think not. She could have valuable information. You may leave, but she is staying with us."

Stefan said reaching for the hilt of his sword. "No, she isn't. I won't allow one of my own to become a prisoner in your war."

"What, are you talking about? You're Crimean aren't you? Or… are you a turn coat?" The paladin questioned.

"I am neither. Ike you are the commander of the Crimean army. Allow me to leave." Ike held up his hand and said. "You can go Stefan. I owe you for helping me refine the skills I learned from my father."

Soren appeared from behind Ike, the sage always seemed to be lurking about. "Are you certain Ike? She is one of Daein's Riders. She could have very valuable information." Stefan couldn't help but feel betrayed at the branded tactician's words.

"No Soren, they are free to go." Ike turned to the Crimean soldier. "You better listen and listen well, any man or woman caught trying to recapture General Petrine will be severely punished. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, Sir."

"Good, spread the word, and return to your posts. Stefan, would you like me to prepare a horse for you? I want you to put some distance between yourself and my men." Ike suggested.

"I would appreciate that." The green haired man said, gratefully.

_If I Ride hard I might be able to reach the fringe of the Serenes forest by nightfall. _He thought. He though before setting out. After many hours of riding. Stefan hit the fringe of the Serenes forest, He'd ran the horse hard it was tired and Stefan wasn't feeling so great himself. Even so, the sword master untied the ex-Daein general from the back of the horse and gingerly laid her on the ground several feet away from the horse and wrapped her in a blanket. It had grown dark but the forest seemed to glow with life despite the charred wood underneath, the fresh vegetation. He went about setting up camp as he expected his passenger to wake up soon.

_"Now then, Petrine. My dear Petrine... You have made one blunder after another. How will you prove your worth to me...? If you wish to remain in my service, you must show me results, unless of course you wish to become food for Rajaion?" the dark silhouette of a well built man appeared his face sported a smile that could only be called sadistic._

"_Y-Your Majesty! I swear I will redouble my efforts! I… I won't let you down again!" The paladin begged.  
_

Stefan was sitting beside a fire cooking, when he saw Petrine move underneath the blanket he'd wrapped her in. He walked over and knelt next to her.

"_You can be a general or you can be dinner. I don't really care which... But do try to show a little initiative, won't you?" The Mad King said jokingly._

"…Yes… …your majesty…" The woman whispered in her sleep.

_She tried to walk away, but she couldn't move her legs and her scenery didn't change. Ashnard's expression however, did, it slowly changed from one of amusement to one of discontentment and irritation. "Ah… but you see my dear Petrine, You have failed me far too many times and I no longer have any use for you. Rajaion your dinner is served. Eat to your heart's content and don't worry about going to waste Petrine. I'll give whatever remains to the other feral ones."_

"…No, please your majesty… I… I'll do anything! G-give me another chance, please!" The sword master's brow furrowed as he heard her words.

"_Eat her already Rajaion, if I have to endure anymore of this spineless weakling's sniveling I fear I may actually go insane."_

"No, please! I don't want to die!" Stefan leaned over the panicking woman and whispered into her ear. "It's alright… you're safe Ashnard can't hurt you now." He whispered into her ear, but she screamed and bolted upright. They knocked heads… this resulted in Stefan losing his balance and falling on top of her.

The first thing the dark haired woman saw and felt… when she'd fully regained her senses, was the man sprawled out over her. "Ahh! Get the hell off me, you worthless lout!" She tried to throw him off, only to find her arms stuck under the blanket wrapped around her.

Stefan picked himself up and rubbed his head. "That must have been quite the nightmare. Mumbling, screaming and I've never seen someone bolt upright like that… certainly caught me off-guard."

"You!" She looked around trying to get her bearings. "Where are we? Where's the Crimean Army?"

"Can it wait for a moment? I'd prefer to be interrogated over a bowl of food." The man with the light green hair rose from his place next to the Daein and headed back to the fire.

She wasted no time in escaping the grasp of blanket wrapped about her. When her right hand broke free of the blanket, it landed on something that felt like… a spear shaft. She grasped it and brought it to herself. _My flame spear… Did he actually…? Tch, what an idiot…_

"If you're planning on running off you really should take that blanket with you." He said to her as she walked over. "No, I'll stay… for now. But if I wake up and find you lying on top of me, again. My spear won't be at your throat… It'll be in it."

"I'll keep that in mind." He offered her a bowl. "Here, eat up."

She took the bowl and readied a spoonful of the soup that she brought it to her lips. She blew on it, before putting it in her mouth. As soon as she removed the spoon she gagged and spat it out. "What the hell is this crap? It tastes terrible."

"Eh… Oh sorry… I've gotten so used to my bad cooking, I hardly notice." Stefan said nonchalantly shrugging off her judgments, she was right after all.

She sighed and tossed the bowl on the ground. "Wonderful… How far is it to Begnion?"

"We're not going to Begnion. We're going to the Grann Desert." He took another spoonful of his half-cooked stew.

"You are… joking, right?" She asked. The mere thought of walking through the desert was almost enough to make her cringe.

"It's no joke. We're going to the Grann Desert." He confirmed.

"Only an imbecile would "want" to go there." She paused for only a moment before adding. "Could that be why it's your destination?"

"Ouch, but yeah, I get it. It's a place people tend to avoid… but because of that, I've managed to start a colony where we branded can live without fear of persecution from humans and sub-humans alike."

"You're unbelievable. I mean really, you speak of it as though it is a paradise. We're talking about an undeveloped colony in the middle of the desert! Going there is not something to be happy about." The spearwoman argued.

"It's really not all that bad. Once we chiseled our way into the cliff, the heat ceased to be much of a problem because the rock does such a good job of shielding us from the sun." Stefan explained.

"Wait. You… live in caves?" The woman said in disbelief.

"No, we live in manmade structures that happen to encased in rock." The swordsman joked.

"Semantics, caves are caves, manmade or not. What do you take me for? A fool?" She accused.

"Well, The King of Deain might be mad but he wouldn't have made it this far if his riders were a bunch of fools. Your troops put up a good fight." Stefan replied nonchalantly as he fell back with his hands over the back of his head. "Argh, way to remind me of the mess I made on that blasted bridge. I hope none of my men escaped... If Ashnard finds out that I'm alive…"

"I'd be more concerned about Crimean search parties, if I were you." Stefan chimed in.

Irritated, Petrine asked. "You don't know anything about how he deals with loose ends do you?"

"Not a thing, but I do know that the Crimean army is keeping him very busy. I doubt he'll have the time to go around tying up "loose ends." The Crimean commander, Ike, is also quite strong, not mention his tactician's skill. I'd say they stand a very good chance of emerging victorious."

"…Tch." The Daein's brow furrowed. She removed herself from the ground around the fire she walked off haughtily, into the night and out of sight. When the ex-Daein stopped she took a nice deep breath and it calmed her a bit, but she was still in a huff... _How dare he even think he knows my situation! And for him to shrug off my concerns like that... The nerve! She gripped her spear tightly._ She took another deep breath and her grip on the spear loosened. She sighed in exasperation. _And though I am loathe to admit it, he did save me from death... and imprisonment, a far worse fate..._ She paced a while before reluctantly heading back to the camp.

When Stefan saw her coming back to the campsite he said. "Welcome back. Did you have a nice little stroll?"

"Do yourself a favor and stay over there. I'm going back to sleep." Stefan watched as Petrine threw off her plate mail and wrapped herself in the blanket that he'd left her in earlier. The man with the light green hair smiled. He sat up, throwing another stick of wood on the fire. He glanced at her and saw her moving around trying to find a comfortable position on the ground. _Well, looks like I'm on watch tonight. Lucky me._

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Yeah, I know it's not canon, but when you think about it… It's not really such a crazy idea and if you want to hate on the pairing… at least tell me why. I have curiosity to feed, after all.


	2. Riders in the Dark of Night

Weary and wary, Petrine stared over the fire. Her eyes were bloodshot, reddened by smoke, and by sleep deprivation. Yet, they were keenly focused on their surroundings. Like vicious bloodhounds, they caught onto everything that drifted, strayed, or otherwise stumbled, into the fire lit hollow.

Unfortunately, as menacing as her hawk-like eyes would be to an onlooker, they could not pierce darkness. That was a skill that she'd pay handsomely for, because her eyes were simply not capable of unveiling her most distant tormentors.

She would never admit it openly, but a biting irrational fear was starting to sink in, and it was getting to her. Provoking a restlessness that had nearly driven her to leave her fire behind, but she resisted, knowing full well that leaving the fire would be a mistake. Sub-humans were dangerous, more so than any human could be in their natural state, especially in these hours of darkness.

She felt a gust of wind strike her from behind and strands of her greasy hair disheveled striking her face like a legion of whips and stinging her bloodshot eyes with smoke. Her eyes watered up as they tried to out the long thin material, with tears but Petrine didn't give them the chance to start their effort in earnest. She pulled the strands from her eyes with a grimace.

"Kuh! Damn this wind…!" She cursed. And another blast of air of struck her full on in the face. Her fire was blown out like a candle and her face was coated by the hot ash the wind picked up as it passed. The ash assaulted her senses. It mercilessly infiltrated her half-closed lips and the arid particles tickled her throat. The smoke whirled around her and she bent over with a pitiable look on her face and began to cough.

When she was finished Petrine groaned and sat up. The wind had begun to die down, but her anger hadn't. She glared at the plume of smoke rising from her fire's charred remains. She rose to her feet with clenched teeth and moved toward her armaments.

Petrine was mere feet away from them when she heard something snap. The sound came from behind. And it was hauntingly close. No one could move that silently, not even a beast. She bit her lip and her breathing slowed. Hotness rose in her chest as she slowly moved toward her spear. She took a deep breath and lunged forth. Grabbed her spear and twisted around. Landing ready to face whatever it was that lurked behind her. When her eyes settled on the source of the noise, her lip curled. It was Stefan's bedroll; his filthy, dull brown bedroll.

"_Stefan…!"_ Petrine hissed angrily.

She was paranoid. She knew that, but the Black Knight, she knew the Black Knight better than most Daeins did. He was mysterious, extremely deadly, and seemed to be everywhere at once. She honestly believed that he could pop out of thin air.

"Damn it!" She cursed. "Did I engage those blasted Crimean rats wrong?! By rights they should be dead! They're nothing but mercenary monkeys led by a handmaiden princess! Now I'm… I… Dog's breath!"

"Ashera! Damn you, you holy bitch! I'm not a half-breed! I don't deserve this!" Petrine yelled.

She looked at Stefan. "And you…"

Stefan rolled onto his back, yawned, and looked up at her. "Would you like to say something?"

"…! You're awake!?" She gulped anxiously, but quickly recovered.

The man yawned. "You could say that. Though, I've only been awake long enough to blink."

She lifted her spear and pointed it at him. "What did you hear!? If you dare to fork your tongue with lies, I'll kill you!"

"Whoa, easy…!" Stefan started hastily.

She leered at him, probing his chest with her spear. "Start talking."

"Alright, but be careful with that thing. It looks dangerous." She pressed it down a bit more, this time it drew blood. Or it would have, were it an ordinary spear.

"Ah! Hot!" Stefan looked at the tip of her spear and felt the spot on his neck. "Hah, dried blood… a cauterized wound. I guess that what they say about your spear is true, after all…"

She glared at him "Want another? I'd be happy to sting you again."

"Haha, no thanks, I'm good."

"Then stop screwing around and speak up, lout! What did you hear!?"

"I heard you cursing the goddess, if you said anything prior I'm ignorant, and if it's any consolation I can't say anything bad about that. I mean, I do it too, just… not as loudly."

"Geh… fine! Whatever! Just… rest! Go back to bed! Or I'll put you back to bed myself! I can't have you dragging me down when we move out." Petrine tossed her spear and headed for the trees.

"Where are you going?" Stefan asked.

"You better be sleeping when I get back." She yelled.

The forest was dark and the wind gave the trees an eerie life, all their own. Every step she took her ears were filled with the sound of cracking twigs and crinkling leaves. Step by step, as she proceeded forward, shapes manifested in the shifting trees but she expected her mind to play tricks. She expected the sound of the leaves ruffled by the wind, to sound like cover for advancing troops. The beastly noises struck by the wind were interpreted by her craven mind as staking sub humans. She tried to ignore things like these. They were wrought by paranoia, yet at the same time, she wanted to remain mindful. She hadn't survived this long by being careless.

She paused. Something had snapped outside the rhythm of her steps. She listened intently and heard nothing more. Her lips pursed and she continued on, warily.

Before long she stood at the edge of the forest. It was refreshing to see the treeless ground and the tall plain grass that stretched beyond it into the expanse. Petrine stopped at the edge of the plain and looked out over the untamed grasslands that stretched out in front of her.

Now that she was standing still. She heard rustling behind her.

"My mind playing tricks again?" She murmured.

No, there it was again, cracking and rustling. She wasn't hallucinating now, was she? She sighed. "This routine is getting tiresome."

"Is it?"

Petrine nearly jumped at the unexpected response. "…! I thought I heard someone back there…! Ha! Too bad it was you."

"Huh, really? Well, are you looking for something to kill or are you simply enjoying some time at the forest's edge?"

"I was enjoying myself, yes. Oh, and that reminds me."

"Of wha-!?"

Petrine spun around and struck him in the face with the back of her hand. The impact was so powerful that Stefan lost his balance and fell down.

"Guh! That really hurt, I guess you were serious when you said you'd put me to sleep."

"Hm? Are you still awake?" She taunted, looking down on him with a mocking grin.

He gave her a wry look. "No, I'm dead asleep."

She could feel the sarcasm oozing from his words.

"Smartass." She grumbled. "Well, get on your feet… Or I'll kick you until you can't stand and leave you here as bait."

"That all? Seems like I'm starting to grow on you!"

"Tch, fool. Don't flatter yourself. I owe you, but that's only getting you so far. To Beingnon, specifically."

"Yeah… I know…. and if you don't mind me asking…"

"I do, so keep your damn mouth shut and go get ready to move out." She spat.

"Aren't we going to eat first?"

"No, we're not. Beingnon is a week away and _your_ meager food stores won't last _us_ if we keep going at _your_ leisurely pace. Get it!? You, don't want to be half starved by the time we get there do you?!"

He gave her a goofy grin. "I'm half starved now."

She gave him an angry look in return. "Poor you."

Stefan broke eye contact with her and his voice trailed off for a moment. "Yeah…"

"Well, at any rate, I think you should turn around."

Petrine turned around and crossed her arms. "This better be good… I'm not in the mood for your mischief."

"Well, it's certainly not good, but it's definitely not my mischief. Look…" Stefan stood next to her and pointed to her left.

She followed his finger and saw firelight. It was a fair ways off and was spread unevenly across a small portion of the plain. A smile crept across her lips. "Oh? What is that? Crimeans…?"

"If I had to guess…" Stefan muttered.

"Go back to camp. I have a lot of torment to repay, and I can think of no more desirable target than the Crimean dogs that had the nerve to send me here." Petrine's tone was cold and venomous.

Stefan sounded taken aback. "A-and leave you to fight Weaponless?! I don't think so… you better let me handle this."

"I may not have my spear, but I'm no defenseless damsel, cur! You would do well to remember that…!" She seethed.

"At least let me help you…"

"What _is_ the matter with you? Are you afraid of me getting hurt?" She taunted, turning around to jab at his face with her middle and pointer fingers.

He dodged her by taking half a step backwards. "Ye-ugh, no… but, ah fine… Just, be careful." Petrine turned her back to him and moved to meet their pursuers.

When they appeared to be some fifteen to twenty meters away, Petrine ducked behind cover. She watched her pursuers lazily; and was bored to tears merely looking at them. The soldiers she saw were dressed in light non-intrusive armor that only an unskilled fool of a warrior would ever be proud of wearing. They were greenhorns, sent from Beingnon for naught but the sake of politics; these weren't the mercenaries she'd been bested by. They were nothing; being hunted by them was an affront to her skill as a warrior, and she would not allow it to stand.

It was just then, when she was feeling comfortable with the thought of charging in barehanded, that her eyes caught upon the white armor of a Crimean paladin. He rode at the center of the group atop his white horse. Gallantly standing out like a sore thumb against the dark backdrop. It was surprising that she'd not seen him before now. Nonetheless, his gently flowing green cape and high-held head were a welcome sight. She had actual prey now.

Many of the young soldiers looked to him for comfort. They were frightened and insecure and when the paladin caught their gaze he sent it right back around with hand movements. When the paladin stopped his horse and dismounted. His charges took note of it and moved to meet with him.

The paladin turned his attention to his men. "This is as good a place as any to start looking for evidence of their passing."

"So get to it men, spread out. Search the area and don't return without my call. Unless of course, you manage to find something." The Crimean paladin ordered in a hushed voice.

"Man, I should have grabbed my lantern… I can't see a thing." A young archer complained.

"You! Stop complaining! And spread out! We've got numbers. If they are here… you have no reason to be scared! Now move!" The paladin ordered.

"Alright, but man, this place is creepy… I can't believe I don't have a light."

The young man wandered away, toward the forest's depths, toward Petrine, and when he was near, she stepped in on him and she began to stalk him. Her breathing was held back, and she stepped, only when he did, breathed, only when he did. Her hands itched for the kill, and slowly, the young man came closer, closer to her hands, till she could contain her desire no longer.

Petrine lunged forward and covered the young man's mouth with inhuman speed. He struggled, desperate and afraid, as she angled her hands, and then, a crack broke the silence. The young man went limp, and slid helplessly from her arms, a dying man. She grabbed his bow, then, by the scruff of his undershirt, she dragged him behind a tree. She leaned against the tree and inspected the weapon. The bow was old and poorly made. The bow's string was poorly maintained too. She drew it back, and fortunately the string was taunt and relatively un-frayed. Petrine relaxed her arm and bent down to draw an arrow from the dead boy's quiver.

When out of the corner of her eye. She saw reddish orange light. It came at her from the left, and it seemed like it would pass by her, to the right. She notched an arrow, and hugged the right side of the tree. She took three deep breaths. Then on the fourth, she swung out, drew the bow, stabilized it, and set it on her target. He was close. She looked down the arrow's shaft at him.

In her mind, its tip pierced his heart. And then the string slid past her fingers. The twang of the bowstring resounded in her ear and she watched her arrow sink deeply into the swordsman's chest, but her shot wasn't clean, and her prey suddenly felt very talkative. Yelling and carrying on about the arrow in his chest. She ran to the swordsman, and in only a couple fluid moments she'd kicked his lantern, picked up his sword and crushed his neck beneath her heel.

The sword was on its last legs, but it was sharp and available. She swung it a couple times and smiled, it was nice to have something with weight in her hand.

…

Stefan ran toward the lights that had spread out to the east, they moved back and forth. Their wielders were frightened, that meant Petrine was probably busy terrorizing them. He'd seen enough inexperienced soldiers to know how prone to panic they were.

Suddenly, Stefan heard a deep voice. "Damn it, the poor kid… he didn't deserve this… Well, at least it looks like he went quickly."

He broke out of his run and slipped behind a tree. When he looked in voice's direction he saw Petrine. She stood behind the man. She looked like a reaper, standing there with her sword over the man's head, angled down at his neck.

"Y-yeah, not somethin' ya can say bout' Richt…" Petrine smiled, and brought her sword down. "Last look I got o' him he was puya-!"

The sword missed the helmet and all bone. It tore through the man's neck with the utmost ease. Blood struck the soldier's compatriot and he fell to the ground in terror while his helmeted friend's head fell from its cradle. Petrine who'd been unable to break the sword's momentum abandoned the rickety thing where it lay stuck, and picked up the decapitated soldier's Javelin. The archer was terrified and tried to put some distance between them.

This appeared to amuse Petrine and she let him scramble a bit before she threw the javelin after him. Her aim was true, and the archer's armor was insufficient. The javelin impaled the man's stomach and left him writhing and screaming on the ground.

"Over there! Quick! Get moving! She'll get away!"

She ignored the alerted solders behind her as she continued to the dying archer. When she reached him she ripped the Javelin out of him, but she wasn't done just yet. She stepped on his neck and crushed his throat under her heel.

Stefan was deeply impressed by her versatility on the battlefield but he didn't have much time to stand in awe, the remaining soldiers were closing in quick.

The sword master ran from cover, toward Petrine. He slid to a stop, cutting of a pair of pursuers. He faced them, brandishing his sword in anticipation. And then his would be foe attacked.

Stefan sidestepped and severed the man's head, all in one smooth, full-body, motion. The soldier behind him froze in his tracks. Stefan saw blood on the man's face and walked toward him.

"Go, find their leader Petrine. I don't need your help, either."

"Humph, I'm not taking orders from you."

"It's a suggestion. You don't want him to make the first move, do you? That would put you in the submissive role… I don't think that would suit you very well." She scowled at him and ran off.

Stefan looked down at the young man and the young man looked up at him. Stefan saw fear in the soldier's eyes, and he hesitated for a moment, but he couldn't risk letting the young man live. So, Stefan buried his sword in the young man's chest and as he withdrew it, he watched the young man draw his final, rugged gasp. Stefan ran back under the cover of darkness.

Petrine approached the paladin with a wide grin. "Why don't you come down here and fight me like a man, Crimean worm?"

The Paladin dismounted his horse. "Argh! Damn it! I knew these greenhorns would be useless."

Petrine stuck the javelin in the ground and crossed her arms. "I don't give a damn about your pathetic excuses, fool. Failure is failure, and now the burden is on you alone. Can your shoulders bear its weight? I think not. Prepare to die, dog."

"I've had enough of you taunting, wench! Face me and breathe your last!"

Petrine withdrew her spear. "As you wish, you worthless little Crimean man. A slow and painful death shall be yours this night."

This man was nothing with a blade, if he were fighting Stefan his head would've rolled in seconds and in comparison to the infuriating blades man. The paladin's attacks were easily tossed aside. She deflected his attacks with taunting grin as he lashed out in frustration.

Petrine sidestepped, tucked the javelin under her arm, and then using all her body weight she sent the paladin reeling with a solid strike to the head. He stumbled, panting. The proud man had been forced to his knee. He was lost in misery and rage, and grasped his sword hard as he glared at her.

"Humph, where'd all that fight of yours go? I whack you in the head a few times and you can barely stand." Petrine flashed a mocking smile. "I'm bitterly disappointed."

The man quickly produced a black crossbow that he'd cleverly concealed as a last resort. '"I won't lose to you m-my, my! My frii-ahhhhh!"

Before she could blink, Petrine witnessed the immediate severing of the man's arm. "Agh, a-arm m-my…!"

"Those who hunt my kind will not know my mercy, die." Stefan's sword tore through the side of his neck flinging droplets of blood into the dark. A couple of these droplets struck Petrine's face, she didn't flinch, or seem overly surprised when she saw Stefan standing indifferently in the paladin's place.

Petrine looked down at the decapitated paladin and scowled. I didn't think you would use the horse as cover… that was sneaky of you.

Stefan gave her a dull, tepid look. "I was expecting something more along the lines of "thank you" or "my hero"." Petrine sighed and began her trek back to camp.

…

**Author's Note:** I have some time on my hands now. So, if anyone is still following my old stories you can expect a few updates over the summer.


	3. A Mid Spring Stroll

Stefan stared in front of himself like a man possessed. Silence isn't always so golden, he reminded himself as he pressed on. And indeed, this silence did not feel so pleasant; rather, it felt uncomfortable, strained even. Stefan shook his head as he pushed the thought out of his mind. He hadn't so much as looked at Petrine in hours; all the same really, he doubted she'd want to talk to him.

"Stefan…?" She cooed.

"Yes?" He asked, turning to look at her, she was really close. In fact, their noses were practically touching.

"I was hoping for you to show a bit more expression than that… Dog's breath! I'm beyond sick of staring at that stoic face you've adopted." Petrine sighed as she pushed him away.

"Sorry, I've been thinking is all. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"It's fine. You probably got the impression that I would hate talking to you."

"Yeah, you don't seem to like me much."

"Yeah? Well you're making me like you even less."

"Ahaha, well… If you want me to talk I guess I will."

"So then… What was your life like before you cultivated your "desert paradise"?"

"What was it like? Like this, for the most part… I moved around Beingnon, never staying in one place for very long. I didn't like that life, so I tried something else."

He looked at her. "You know as well as I do that if you want something in this horrible world. You must take it, because it won't be given, that's especially true for branded like us."

Petrine smiled. "I didn't expect to hear such resolve coming from those lips, I am pleasantly surprised."

"Well, you can only act like a fool for so long, though I was absolutely serious when I said that I have terrible luck." Stefan flashed a coy smile.

He snickered as he opened his eyes and looked down at the fire, studying its flickering flames as they licked at the air.

"Ah, I have such a masochistic imagination." He muttered. "That could have been so much better…"

The swordsman looked over at his currently occupied bedroll. Petrine was sleeping soundly and she really was quite pretty, much more so when her face wasn't donning that twisted grin. Seeing the peaceful expression on her face made him think about the person she could have been, if this world wasn't the merciless place that it is… and as always, the thought was a somber and painful one.

Stefan turned away out of courtesy, Petrine was asleep and he wouldn't suffer for looking, but it had been drilled intro him from an early age that staring was rude.

The hours ticked by slowly as he looked at the fire, and he found himself struggling to stay awake. This was the third day in a row that Petrine had made him watchman and he was running on far too few hours of sleep. But thankfully, she was reasonable enough for him to convince her that there would be no more pursuers, and she agreed to the dissolution of the watchman role. That of course, left the issue of who was going to get his bedroll at night.

"Due to start tomorrow, or today, depending on whatever ungodly hour of the night it is right now." He mumbled.

…

Petrine stared at Stefan lazily, she was almost too stiff to care that the lout had fallen asleep during watch, almost. She willed her rickety body upright, and lumbered over to the sleeping swordsman.

She looked down at him and smirked, then she drew her foot back and gave him a firm kick in the side.

"Guh, ah…!"Stefan grunted.

The swordsman seemed to be having trouble figuring out what was happening, then all the sudden he stopped moving and sighed.

"You awake yet, my vigilant sentry?" She asked.

Stefan yawned, and stretched his arms. "Yeah, I'm awake."

"Good, now you just need to get off your ass." She leered at him. "Well? What are you waiting for? It's time to move."

Stefan sighed again, and hoisted himself off the ground. "You know, I'd really like to use that bedroll one of these coming nights."

"You wouldn't force a woman to sleep on the cold hard ground would you?" She asked, flashing him her usual grin.

He shrugged. "I suppose not."

Stefan stood there and watched her pack up the bedroll. At least she wouldn't make him roll it up and then forfeit it every night. If she did that he might have to protest.

The two of them chewed on dried meat in silence and after strapping their possessions on again, they were off again.

This was more realistic, a nice terse silence. That alone comforted him as he crunched his way through the woods, with Petrine slightly behind him and to the right.

"Yeah? Well maybe I'd be a bit better about it if you'd let me sleep." Stefan replied irritably.

Petrine was smiling. "I was wondering when you were going to complain about that."

"Huh?!"

She laughed. "Man, you're a hapless glutton for punishment, and you don't even realize it, it's very amusing."

Stefan felt his face contort into a self mocking grin. "So, those last two nights…? You were messing with me?!"

"That's right."

"I see… I must have been too nice. Somehow, I've given you the wrong impression."

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes, you see there are no leaders here, just two people wandering through a forest together, with the notion that Begnion is somewhere that way." Stefan said, pointing in front of them.

"Someone who allows themselves to trip and fall flat on their face is not fit to lead." She stated drolly.

"So that's how you want to play it? Well how about this? One who has beaten senseless by a person who has tripped and fallen on his face is equally inadequate?"

"That was a fluke, and you know it! You were lucky!"

"Me? Lucky…?" Stefan laughed. "No, you must be mistaken."

Stefan drew his sword. "But if you want a reminder. I would be happy to indulge you."

"Humph, Fine then." Petrine brandished her spear and turned it on him.

He lunged forward. Petrine looked shocked as his sword dug into the metal shaft of her spear. She spun her spear getting him to back away momentarily. Then he stepped vigorously back into range.

She tried again and again to catch him with the blunt of her spear, she failed every time, and every failure lost her ground.

Stefan was mercilessly pushing her back. She was hesitant, he could tell. Her attacks just didn't hit as hard. It probably meant something, but at this point he didn't care. He was going to make her feel every bit as miserable as he did.

Sparks flew as Stefan's sword struck her spear again, pushing her back another half a step. Then he stepped forward striking her left hand with a pommel of his sword. Finally, he struck her left side with the flat of his sword and sent her to the ground with a swift kick to the gut.

He looked down at her, as she gasped for air. And regretted everything he just did. Not because he wasn't angry, he was. He felt bad because he didn't want to hurt her, and he did.

…

Even after her breathing had normalized, Petrine lay silently on the ground. She wasn't sad or angry. Though, she was in a fair amount of pain. But even then, it seemed so insignificant, like it was far away.

Stefan wasn't standing over her, which means that he probably went off somewhere to mope. As she pulled herself up to a sitting position, the pain intensified. But she gritted her teeth and endured it.

Petrine wiped a forming tear out of her eye. That was the first time she'd ever fought someone without the intention of killing them. She laughed and forced herself to her feet. She saw Stefan lying against a tree as she staggered forward with her spear.

"I think you should be resting." He stated.

"And I don't want sympathy from the man who just beat me up." She spat, suddenly feeling a bit sore about the whole ordeal.

Stefan sighed. "Fair enough."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I might expand on their trip through the forest, if you, my readers, feel that it was too fast. Next chapter takes place in Begnion. That said, sorry about the short chapter. I felt that making It longer wouldn't really add to it, so yeah, enjoy. Let me know what you think, I'm always looking to improve.


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